Underneath An Abject Willow
by Captain Insaneway
Summary: Swan Queen centric AU set in Fairytale Land. Regina has redeemed herself and is favouring the forces of good. Emma has become a knight under her father's tutelage. Everything appeared to be at peace, but of course that was not the way of things. Cora's causing trouble and it's down to Emma and Regina to fix it. Rated M for smut in later chapters.
1. Chapter 1

Emma Swan was, at least to Regina, a curio. A contradiction.  
Pale and golden haired, delicate as though woven from willow-branches and tender fronds of new flowers, but somehow, a warrior with a mouth set like the cragged horizon. A knight, snake-sinew and pantherine, mouth blooming like a flower as she hissed in consternation. Her sword sang cleanly through flesh, splattering her with blood roses as her hair fanned out in a magnificent flare of molten gold. She whirled like dancer, wielding her weapon with such grace that even the swiftest of monsters couldn't avoid the edge of her steel.  
"Beautiful," Regina's words spilled and steamed like water on hot sand and Emma looked up with raised brows, wiping the blood off her sword on the grass. Regina could've taken care of the hobgoblins easily enough, but Emma was fresh and keen to prove herself, and Regina was her charge.  
"Huh?" Emma looked up, bemused.  
"Swordplay. It's beautiful," Regina replied, fingering the the sword at her waist. She had never been much of a swordswoman, but times had forced even those blessed or cursed with magic to take more tangible efforts toward defending themselves.  
"I guess it is. Never really though of it that way," Emma replied with a shrug. "If you like, I can teach you how to use that thing."  
"I'd like that," Regina replied with a small smile. Charming himself had taught Emma how to wield her sword, but had abstained from aiding Regina; she was dangerous enough without the ability to use a blade effectively. Regina supposed she couldn't blame him.  
Although Regina was now a "former evil queen" and had reconciled with the forces of good in both Fairytale Land and Storybrooke, many were still suspicious of her intentions. Having performed some clever double-crossing on her part to seal Cora away on the other side of the kingdom, Regina had been hailed as a changed woman.  
The seal upon Cora, however, was not powerful enough to keep her imprisoned forever. There was no telling when she would break through. All that was certain was that she would escape eventually which was precisely why Emma and Regina were making their way back to Cora's prison to try and gauge just how long the magic would last.  
Upon her return to Storybrooke, Emma had been knighted and engaged in the beginnings of her training. Regina watched her suerriptitiously through lowered lashes. A curio indeed.  
"Ready to move on? There are fresh horses waiting for us at the next town over," Emma said, her voice cutting through Regina's thoughts. Regina nodded, grateful for the promise of a rest. They had begun their journey with horses, but a storm had passed overhead during the night and their horses had spooked and fled. Regina cast her gaze warily to the sky. Sunlight filtered greenly through the canopy, the small pieces of visible sky a gentle blue-gold colour.  
"Think we'll make it before sundown?" Regina asked quietly, clambering over a log. Emma extended her hand to aid her.  
"If we hurry, we should do. We can get some food too, the majority of our supplies were in our saddlebags," Emma suggested brightly, drawing her sword in warning to a small, shadowy figure peering at them from amidst the trees. The hunched creature scrambled away, clearly deciding it wasn't worth chancing it against a witch and a knight for the taste of human flesh. Regina smiled in agreement and they continued onward, warily eyeing the foliage for further potential attackers.

They managed to reach the outskirts of the town just as the setting sun was colouring the sky shades of vermilion and violet. As soon as Regina appeared, mothers ushered their children indoors, the sounds of keys turning in locks could be heard and people peered from their window fretfully as though worried she might set the village alight.  
"You uh, got some reputation, huh," Emma remarked, shifting awkwardly. Regina managed a watery smile.  
"It's not undeserved. Your parents, and of course, you, were kind enough to take my words at face value and give me a chance. Those who know me as the women who tore their worlds apart, tortured their families and took everything they held dear away from them will not be quite so gracious. I will have to prove myself," Regina replied evenly, meeting Emma's gaze. Emma was unsure how to respond and merely nodded, though her eyes darkened as she noticed a group of men approaching. Some bore torches, others carried makeshift weapons.  
"This your welcoming party?" Emma asked, unsheathing her sword and stepping in front of Regina.  
"Yes. No need to put yourself in danger, I have mag-" Regina began to say moving to brush Emma aside.  
"Do you really think magic will help right now? Stay behind me and let me talk to them," Emma commanded. Taken aback by the tone of Emma's voice, Regina did not protest, though she readied herself to attack all the same. Just in case.  
"Get her out of here," the man leading the group yelled, brandishing a scythe. Regina saw Emma's knuckles whiten on the hilt of her sword.  
"She means you no harm," Emma replied quietly.  
"Then why do you stand before me with your sword unsheathed, girl?" the man scoffed. A man at his side elbowed him sharply.  
"Look at the armour, she's from the castle on the lake," the man hissed. The leader blanched and slowly bent his knee, though he kept his eyes on Regina and his expression cold.  
"My apologies for my behaviour, knight. I did not recognize you. You must understand my reservations about the _queen_," he said quietly, spitting the word queen as though it tasted bad. Regina's expression soured as she stepped forward but was halted as Emma placed a hand on her shoulder. _Old habits die hard._  
"I understand. But it let it be known to all of you that we hold the Queen in high regard and she is under royal protection. You must not harm her, and she is sworn not to harm you," Emma replied, eyes blazing. The people nodded and the crowd dispersed as everybody shuffled away awkwardly, leaving Emma and Regina standing alone.  
"Thank you," Regina murmured.  
"No problem. I don't think my dad would be hugely pleased with me if I returned home to tell him you'd been deep-fried by some hicks with a grudge," Emma shrugged, though not unkindly. "Come on, the inn we're staying at is up ahead."

As they entered the inn, the place fell silent. Men glared at the pair over the rims of their tankards and a few brushed roughly against Regina as they left. Emma had a hurried, quiet argument with the innkeeper and finally returned to Regina's side in time to keep her from blasting a particularly rude passerby across the room.  
"He says there's only one room, so we're going to have to share. He says we also have to eat in our rooms, we're scaring away the custom. You okay with that?" Emma asked. Regina nodded and they headed upstairs.  
Some time later that evening, having settled in and procured horses for the next day's ride, Emma and Regina found themselves quite alone in each other's company. Emma had removed her armour and was sprawled on the bed they were to share in just her tunic and leather jerkin, boots abandoned by the door. Regina was sitting on the floor, dress pooling around her in a magnificent swathe of grey velvet, studying a book.  
"What's in that book anyway?" Emma asked, rolling over onto her back so she could peer at Regina in an upside down sort of way. Regina looked up and found herself unable to suppress a smile.  
"Magic," she replied simply. "I'm looking for something that might help us strengthen the barrier."  
Emma made a vaguely interested face before rolling neatly off the bed.  
"I'm gonna go get us some food. You should probably stay up here for now," she said apologetically, leaving Regina to gaze sadly at where she had stood even after she had long since vanished out the door.  
Eventually Emma reappeared with a basket full of various foodstuffs and a tray laden with food. Regina smiled at her, shifting her skirts so Emma could set the food down. Emma grinned in response.  
"Hungry?" Regina asked laughingly, lifting the lid of a large pot to reveal a cloud of steam that filled the room with the smell of rabbit. Rabbit stew. Wasting no time, she grabbed two bowls and ladelled out a portion for each of them, breaking off a chunk of bread from one of the loaves Emma had brought.  
"Don't pretend you're not starving," Emma replied, passing her a spoon. "Besides, we're taking some of this with us."  
They began to eat and found both were far hungrier than anticipated. By the time they were done, their dishes set outside their door for housekeeping to collect, the remainder of the food packed securely away, they found themselves consumed by that pleasant sleepy sensation that only comes after a wonderful meal. Laboriously, they removed their clothes.  
"Emma, will you do me a favour?" Regina asked quietly, eyes soft. "Would you unlace my corset?"  
Emma nodded, blushing furiously as she picked the stays apart and eased the corset loose. Regina thanked her, unruffled, and slipped out of the corset, covering her bare breasts with her arm. Emma politely looked away until Regina was safely under the blankets, after which she blew out the candles and finished undressing in the dark before climbing into bed beside her.  
"Goodnight Ms Swan," Regina whispered teasingly.  
"Sleep tight, Madame Mayor," Emma quipped in response. Regina could feel her grinning at her in the dark, even with her back turned.  
As much as they had their differences, there was something comforting in feeling the warmth of Emma by her side. It made her feel just a little safer in a world where she no longer had the upper hand.  
Somehow, in the dark in a city where most of the locals wanted to kill her, the sound of Emma snoring comforted her. She edged slightly closer to her, breathing a silent thanks to her knight accomplice and fell asleep.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N; Thanks for the great response to this fic! Unfortunately, this chapter is more filler than anything else so you might find it a bit slow. Things will get more exciting though, I promise!**

Emma awoke with her head resting on Regina's chest, their legs tangled and bodies pressed close. Attempting to save them both some embarrassment, she tried to slip out of the bed and promptly fell on the floor with a clatter. Regina woke up abruptly and slowly eased herself into a sitting position, wrapping herself in the blanket to avoid flashing the already dazed Emma.  
"Are you quite alright?" Regina asked, raising a brow, managing to look perfectly sardonic despite just being wrenched rather rudely from sleep.  
"I'm fine, just, uh, fell," Emma answered lamely, snatching up her tunic and pulling it over her head. "I need to go wash..."  
"One thing I hate about Fairytale Land. No showers," Regina replied, stretching luxuriously and looking suprisingly like an enormous, self-satisfied cat. Emma briefly wondered if giant cats existed in Fairytale Land. Probably. Seeing the look on Emma's face, she snorted. "What? This place isn't like the castle. If we're lucky, they'll have a tin bath outside with water we can use. If not, it's a river or a bucket. Come on."  
With that, Regina rose from the bed and slipped into one of Emma's clean tunics. Emma was about to protest before she realized Regina's enormous gown wasn't exactly practical. She followed Regina out of the room, whereupon Regina asked a scullery maid about the bathing facilities. They were handed some rags, presumably to be used to dry off, and directed out the back door into the yard with the horses. What looked like a giant, oval trough stood full of water. Thankfully the water was at least clean, but freezing cold.  
"Do we have to wash like, here? Where anybody could see us?" Emma asked, shifting from one foot to the other.  
"Yup," Regina replied brightly, though she looked rather disgusted. Emma guessed she was trying to make the best of things. "Anybody around?"  
She briefly checked their surrounding for any observers before slipping out of her clothing and climbing into the water, yelping at the cold. She seemed rather unabashed by her own nakedness, though Emma was steadfastly looking the other way.  
"I should've warmed it up a bit-" she began to say before she noticed Emma's expression. "Not like you to be so shy, Ms Swan. As I recall, you've had no issue with coming into my home uninvited in the past. I'm surprised you haven't seen me naked already."  
Emma choked in response, angry that she couldn't think up a decent reply and settling for glaring into the distance.  
"Keep your eyes open for me, I have no desire to be slaughtered by a gang of angry townspeople whilst in the nude," Regina demanded, washing herself hurriedly.  
Emma noted mutely, trying to avoid looking at the cheerfully naked woman beside her. The Regina Mills she had known in Storybrooke had been a private, uptight woman. Queen Regina seemed to have a bit more... freedom. Although she supposed Regina was trying not to make too much of a fuss because she saw no need to make the unavoidable awkward, especially when they had such a lengthy journey together. As Regina climbed out, Emma caught a glimpse of golden thighs, perfect hipbones and the delicate curve of her breast before she enveloped herself in one of their makeshift towels. She was smaller than she looked without one of her huge gowns. Emma waited until Regina wasn't looking before clambering hurriedly into the tin bath, wincing at the cold.  
"It's freezing!" she breathed, colour draining from her face as she began to shiver. The cool morning air bit sharply into her exposed flesh. Regina did not reply, merely snapping her fingers, at which the water instantly warmed to a tolerable level. Emma muttered a grudging thanks and began to wash, the chipped piece of soap they'd been given rising a lather on her skin. As Regina stood guard, Emma's mind wandered. The surrounding countryside was actually pretty beautiful; lots of lush, rolling meadows with a few stands of conifers and the occasional copse of young deciduous trees in full blossom. Leaving the wood behind for such open countryside filled her with a new hope. When she climbed out of the tub and they headed back to their room, her step was considerably lighter and her appetite for adventure had returned with a pleasing vengeance.

Having breakfasted and bathed, the two women were ready to resume their journey. Emma was struggling with her armour when Regina appeared in her riding attire, brows quirked at Emma's vain attempts to get her breastplate on.  
"Wanna help instead of just looking at me like that?" Emma asked, glowering. Regina merely stifled a laugh and aided her, slender hands working the buckles deftly.  
"So your dad taught you how to ride a horse and kill things, but not how to put your armour on?" she asked, riding boots squeaking as she shifted position.  
"Shut up," Emma snapped. "And where the hell are you getting your clothes from? Yesterday you were wearing a ballgown, and the day before that, a different dress-"  
"Magic," Regina interrupted simply. "You didn't think I'd carry my wardrobe around with me, did you?"  
Emma huffed in response, trying to ignore how closely Regina's jodhpurs fit.  
Once they had dressed and packed their saddlebags, the innkeeper led them outside to meet the horses. Emma had to smile as she noticed Regina's face light up with delight at the sight of the animals. She approached them with confidence, extending an arm as though greeting an old friend. The horses immediately came to her side, nosing her with affection.  
"You'd think animals would run the other way," Emma mused. "What with you being a witch and all."  
"Really, I would've thought your time here might have educated a little more, Emma," Regina replied silkily. "Horses have always been particularly fond of me, and I of them."  
Emma shrugged and began to attach the saddlebags. One of the horses was a sleek, tall palomino that Regina said had "a hotblooded face", whatever that meant. The other was a handsome strawberry roan cob with one blue eye, one brown. Emma admired Regina's enthusiasm as she cooed over the rather bored looking beasts, stroking their velvety noses and murmuring to them. The woman clearly knew her horses. Emma watched as Regina smoothly mounted the palomino, sitting tall in the saddle and tried to mimic her; without the palace stablehand and a mounting block, she still struggled somewhat with actually getting into the saddle, but once seated, she was a comfortable rider. They paid the innkeeper and bade him farewell, pushing the horses out of the yard at a rousing trot. Emma couldn't help but appreciate Regina's poise and complete control over the horse. The palomino moved at a collected pace and she seemed almost to move with him. Emma, however, bounced around in the saddle and had several near misses when her horse yanked the reins from her hands as he strained to snatch at the hedgerows.  
"How about you teach me how to use a sword, I teach you how to keep the horse from taking you for a ride?" Regina offered, slowing to ride alongside her.  
"That would be much appreciated," Emma replied. The words had barely left her lips before her horse dipped his neck abruptly to grab a mouthful of grass and she tumbled out of the saddle, landing hard on the path and scraping her hands. Regina dismounted with surprising speed and tied both of the horses to a sturdy branch of a convenient tree before attending to Emma.  
"You okay?" she asked, her voice gentler than Emma had ever believed it could be. She took the proferred hand and allowed Regina to help her to her feet. Much to her disgust, she was trembling.  
"Tore up my hands pretty good, but I'm fine," she replied curtly, looking away with angry shame. Some knight she'd turned out to be. Hot tears pricked her eyes, but did not run over for which she was grateful. Regina did not answer, merely taking her by the wrist and examining her scraped palms.  
"Here, let me tend to that," Regina said quietly, pouring some water from the waterskin lashed to her saddle onto the wounds to cleanse them of dirt. Emma stood at her side in silence, feeling rather like a child as Regina hunted in their pack for something to bind her hands with. They were bleeding rather badly. Eventually, she found some material and tied a length around each of Emma's hands.  
"I'll put some salve on them later. For now, we'll try to stop the bleeding," she said, untying the horses. "You get on my horse. Leave the stirrups."  
Emma mutely followed Regina's instructions, watching curiously as Regina tied Emma's horse's reins and a length of rope to his saddlehorn. She then climbed up to sit in front of Emma and led the cob with the rope. The two of them sharing the saddle was rather uncomfortable, but Emma decided some discomfort and the awkwardness of wrapping her arms around Regina's waist was preferable to cutting her wounded hands further with the reins of the obstinate cob who was walking like an angel on the end of the rope.  
"You're really good with horses, huh," Emma said, looking out across the fields and feeling her heart leap with exhilaration at the prospect of such freedom. She couldn't see Regina's expression, but she guessed she was smiling.  
"Yes. Always been one of my talents. Daniel taught me everything I know," she replied quietly, sounding both sad and happy at the same time somehow. "He was an excellent horseman, he could make any horse do as he pleased. Watching him ride was beautiful, it was almost as though he were a part of the horse, as though they had melded together and were one set of muscles and intentions."  
"You really loved him," Emma said softly, realizing that the way Regina described Daniel's riding was pretty close to her own thoughts when she watched Regina riding.  
"I did," Regina whispered, barely audible. Emma sensed she was trying not to cry.  
"I think he'd be proud of you," Emma ventured tentatively after a few moments of silence. "He must have been a good teacher."  
"I- I don't think he would've been. Not after all I've done," Regina murmured. Suddenly, she seemed to stiffen in the saddle, and Emma understood the discussion was over. Regina had clammed up again. Like she always did.

For the rest of the ride, Regina barely spoke, seeming deep in thought. Emma would've minded more had she not been distracted by the glorious countryside and the dull ache in her hands. As the sun began to go down, Regina made a suggestion about finding somewhere to set up camp. Emma nodded, and eventually they came to a small copse by a stream where the soil was dry and the grass was plentiful. Regina tied up the horses and started the fire, refusing to let Emma help on the basis that she shouldn't worry the wounds on her hands any further. Pleasantly surprised at Regina's sudden show of caring, Emma settled for gathering wood for the fire, her hands clumsy under their bandages. She dumped the kindling into the small flame and moved to sit beside Regina who had hauled out their bedding.  
"Looks like a night under the stars tonight, Emma," she mused, casting her gaze upward. The sky was ultramarine velvet, tinged at the edges with violet and distant gold, the remnants of the day melting as the stars began to emerge. It was oddly romantic, sitting in the glow of the fire, beneath the stars with a friend close at her side gazing into the flames as though lost in them. Unconsciously, Emma started to fidget with her bandages. Regina managed to tear her eyes from the fire long enough to reprimand Emma sharply and take her by the wrists to undo her bandages and apply some salve. The salve stung horribly for a few moments, but after a minute or two Emma was sure she could feel the wounds healing faster. As Regina replaced her blood-soaked bandages, their eyes met. Emma was seized with the overpowering urge to kiss her; something about the gentle firelight, Regina's careful touch, the closeness, filled her with a strange giddiness. Embarrassed, she looked away. _Where the Hell did that come from?_  
"That should help them heal. Just be careful," Regina murmured, her eyes intense. Emma opened her mouth to speak, not entirely sure of what she was going to say, but thought the better of it. Regina gazed at her for a few moments, dark-eyed and expressionless before letting go of Emma's hands and getting to her feet. Emma watched her walk away until she was swallowed by darkness, her heart heavy. Even before Regina had migrated toward the forces of good, Emma had felt a certain closeness to her, a bond. Perhaps it was forged by Henry, perhaps it was the product of similar souls, but it was there and it had grown stronger every day Regina had proven herself to be truly good. What had begun as a tenuous link between the two women had turned to friendship, and Emma sensed that was what Regina needed most. She had always had allies, but never a real friend with the exception of her sister; the loneliness in her eyes had been almost painful. Emma's brows knitted as she removed her armour and settled herself to sleep. She knew that loneliness well. In that moment, she silently swore that she would be there for Regina, be the friend she had never had but so desperately needed.  
When Regina returned, Emma heard her get ready to sleep.  
"Thank you," she murmured as the fire was extinguished.  
"You're welcome," Regina replied, her voice sounding oddly distant.  
They lay in the dark for a long time, but neither slept. When the sky began to turn grey and lemon with the approach of morning, heavy with exhaustion they saddled up and prepared to continue on their journey.


	3. Chapter 3

Each day seemed to dawn with greater fire than the last as they moved North, the innocent yellows of the Southern sky turning to glorious vermilions, bronzes, electric purple, blue, scarlet. Solferino clouds gathered every morning, slowly melting to a golden haze on the horizon, rising to a phoenicious sky that seemed almost to celebrate the birth of a new day, baptizing the land with fire and liquid gold light. It was the most beautiful thing Emma had ever seen. Something about the Northern sky filled her chest with a wildness, a desperate longing to shriek to the sky and run as hard as she could toward the distant mountains until her legs gave out and she collapsed in a stream.  
The days were passing far faster now. Regina supposed it was because they had both grown more comfortable and often exchanged conversation as they moved. Amidst the perpetual exhaustion, it was pleasant. The company, the scenery, the evening beneath lapis lazuli skies seemed to Regina something like perfection. Despite collapsing onto her meager bed every night with trembling legs and aching bones, she was _happy. _It felt peculiar to be quite so delighted with such a basic way of living, but even with the bothersome whisper of the reason behind their journey playing the back of her mind, she found herself quite content to ride day after day at Emma's side, laughing and talking and taking turns to deal with the small fiends that emerged as if from nowhere to harry them for flesh. Emma's company led her along like a candle in the night; she was entirely happy to simply listen to her speak about anything. Something about the way she looked at the world touched Regina's heart. It was almost an informed childishness; she knew of pain and sadness and soul-deep loneliness, but at the same time, Fairytale Land was new to her and she was a child stumbling out into the sunlight for the first time. Everything enchanted her, and she wasn't afraid to say so. Regina could not supress a smile at her exclamations over the morning sky, or a moth as big as her hand fluttering around the fire or the deer that came out of the mist to watch them before melting away again like pale wreathes of cloud.  
Something at the back of her mind told her Emma was more than a little bit responsible for her recent shift toward a good mood. To talk to somebody as though they were not only an equal but a friend had been a rare experience for Regina. Deeper than that even, there was a small voice murmuring that perhaps she had fallen for Emma, though Regina dismissed it as foolishness. Emma was the first real friend she'd had. Of course she'd become emotionally invested in her, and she admired her deeply. She must just be confusing admiration with attraction.  
That had to be it.  
There was no other explanation. Regina Mills did not have a crush on Emma Swan. No way. Though there was something about wandering the wilderness with her brave knight that stirred up the romantic in her. She had seen something in Emma's eyes that night she'd healed her hands by the fire, and was certain she had not imagined their new closeness.  
But perhaps this was what having a friend was like. Having somebody to be close to, somebody who was kind to you without wanting something in return, somebody who would worry for you when you were gone a little too long when searching for kindling. Maybe this was friendship and Regina, poor, stupid Regina, had fallen in headfirst and mistaken it for something else. That was what the voice in the back of her mind told her in the silence of the night, though her heart murmured something different. The confusion was immense and suffocating, and all she really knew was that she wasn't quite sure what she would do when they returned from their journey and parted ways again. She supposed a piece of her heart would leave with Emma, her first Friend. That had to mean something, even if she was reading it all wrong.  
For a woman with some of the most fearsome magical ability the kingdom had seen, Regina felt rather pathetic and foolish.  
Indeed, they had been riding for a considerable amount of time and Regina had spent most of it feeling not quite herself. She did not enjoy being unsure and out of control. This was not how she wanted things to be. Part of her wanted to ask Emma outright what her intentions were. Part of her wanted to ride off alone in the dead of night. Part of her wanted to kiss Emma and just get it all over with. Internal conflict was not a comfortable situation, least of all for Regina Mills, a woman who lived by control and perfection. This was imperfect and dangerous and several shades of uncontrollable.  
And somewhere inside, that small voice caged within her chest murmured _but love is imperfect, dangerous and uncontrollable. You don't regulate love._  
The voice in her head responded with a peevish demand for silence.  
In that moment, her internal struggle must've been writ large upon her features, for Emma leaned over to tap her gently on the shoulder.  
"You okay, space cadet?" she asked worriedly. "You've not got some weird Fairytale Land fever or something? You look a little... peaky."  
"I'm quite alright Emma," Regina assured her, managing a relatively convincing smile. "Just finding myself rather tired today. That's all."  
Emma shrugged in response, but kept her eye upon Regina all the same. Over a week had passed since their last stop at a town, two weeks since they had rested at the inn, and supplies were running low. Emma suspected the considerable reduction in food had something to do with it, but didn't like to ask for fear of pissing off the clearly ruffled Regina. Emma knew that getting six hours sleep on a good day and eating next to nothing couldn't possibly do much to improve one's mood.  
"You wanna stop for a bit? I think you should have something to eat," Emma suggested, noting that Regina seemed rather pale. Regina began to refuse but realized Emma's suggestion was more of an insistence and gave in, nodding.  
"We can rest but I don't want to finish the last of our supplies. There's no telling when we'll next come to a town; this country is mostly inhabited by nomadic people who take their villages with them when they move. We can't be sure that we'll even find somewhere to pick up supplies," Regina stated despairingly.  
"Listen, you sleep, I'm going to rustle something up. I'm pretty good in a tight situation," Emma told her, tying the horses to a dead tree. Regina smiled, thankful for the rest, and prepared her bed. Some time later, she awoke to find Emma wrestling with an enormous fish, but believing such an odd image to be a dream, promptly fell asleep once again. When she woke up to the smell of cooking, she realized that Emma had, somehow, acquired a fish. Against all the odds.  
"Wow, you really are good at this," Regina observed, wandering over to where Emma was cooking the fish over the fire. "How did you catch a fish?"  
"I tickled it. Snow showed me how, you lie down with your arms in the water and tickle the fish and then you can just lift 'em right out. I'm not very good at it, but eventually I caught something. There are hundreds of fish in a stream that seems to run all along our route, so looks like we won't starve after all," Emma explained cheerfully. "Hey, I meant to ask earlier, how come you couldn't just magic some food?"  
"Things like food and animals are hard to handle in terms of magic. It's incredibly difficult to make food appear out of thin air," Regina replied. "I never learned how to do it with food. I can conjure up animals, but that's a last resort."  
"Oh, I see. Well that makes sense. I think," Emma said, raising her brows. "This fish is huge, so I'm cooking some to have now and smoking and salting some to take with us. It should help a little. I'm using the bones to make soup with some of the potatoes we had left. It'll be pretty bland, but it'll fill us up."  
"Thank you," Regina replied. "I don't know what I'd do without you."  
"I don't know what I'd do without you either," Emma grinned in return, considerably happier now that the promise of food was present.  
They ate in silence for the most part, as both women were absolutely ravenous after nearly a week of existing on a few mouthfuls a day. After they were done, the sensation of having a full stomach after a while of having such small meals was almost painful. The morning air was cold, but the hot meal warmed them through and they barely noticed as they made preparations to move on once again toward the great, liard-coloured spires of the Northern mountains. Once they were riding again, Regina found herself full of renewed vigour and Emma discovered her hands had healed enough for her to hold the reins rather than being led on a rope. Their journey was barely even half complete, but somehow things seemed brighter.  
"When we reach the mountains, we shall have to trade out our horses for deer," Regina said suddenly. "You've never ridden a deer, have you?"  
"No," Emma admitted sheepishly. "Why do we have to switch?"  
"Don't worry, I'll help you out. It's not difficult, similar to riding a horse," Regina offered comfortingly. "We need to trade out our horses before we head into the mountains. The horses can't cope with the snow and steep paths, but the deer can. The mountain people use deer for everything; milk, meat, riding, absolutely everything."  
"I'll pass on the deer milk," Emma said, looking rather ill at the thought. Regina laughed at her and kicked her horse into a canter, leading Emma to try and desperately encourage her lazy cob into something faster than a snailing walk.

They rode for a day and a night without resting, as Regina warned that they were in the territory of fiends and monsters now, beasts who would not hesitant to kill and devour them whilst they slept. This, understandably, instilled a deep fear in Emma who pushed them on until both woman and horse was trembling weakly with every step and suffering great exhaustion. Just as Regina was beginning to feel as though she may fall from the saddle, they caught sight of smoke on the horizon, over a small grassy knoll. Hope renewed their energy and they pressed the horses on, cresting the hillock with bright eyes and aching limbs. There, spread out before them, was one of the nomad villages Regina had mentioned. It was a small gathering of tents and wooden wagons with lit fires and a number of livestocks. They approached cautiously, for Regina warned they may not be entirely delighted by their visitors.  
"Hail," Regina called out as they neared the edge of the camp. "We come from The Castle On The Lake. We are not hostile."  
Emma looked at Regina curiously. She could understand her, but somehow, at the same time she had the oddest notion that her words were not in English.  
"You bring a witch and a knight bearing weapons into our village and you claim no hostility? You are not to be trusted, go on your way," a large man said, waving them off dismissively, though he kept his eyes on Emma's sword. He too had that same odd quality of speaking something that was not English, yet Emma could understand.  
"I swear upon our lives and the beasts who carried us here, we do not bring harm. Look, I bear gifts," Regina replied humbly. She clapped her hands and two goats appeared in a puff of violet smoke. "I offer you two goats who can give you milk and meat, or more goats if you wish."  
The large man seemed satisfied by this offer and waved them over, grabbing a rope and leading the goats into a small pen amongst some sheep. Emma glanced worriedly at Regina who looked awfully pale. She seemed to almost slide out of the saddle when she dismounted, and Emma saw her legs nearly buckle, at which she rushed to her side and took her arm.  
"I got you," she murmured comfortingly, looking around suspiciously. "Hey, how come we can understand them?"  
"Magic. I cast an enchantment over us. It'll wear off after a day or two, but for now, we can communicate. It turns our words to their language and allows us to hear their words in ours," Regina explained. "And thank you. Conjuring animals is... exhausting."  
Emma allowed Regina to lean on her, looping an arm around her slim waist to help hold her up. Apparently magic and a lack of sleep didn't mix; Regina was visibly wilting. Emma handed their horses over to a very obliging shepherd who unsaddled them and put them in a pen to graze. The man who had allowed them entry into the village approached, watching Regina warily.  
"We thank you for the gift of goats," he boomed, gesturing broadly. "We have somewhere for you to rest. Come."  
Emma and Regina followed him to a small calfskin tent. He opened the flap and waved for them to enter, which they did. Inside, some furs covered the floor.  
"Thank you, this is very generous," Emma said graciously, looking forward to the prospect of a night safe from the cold evening winds.  
"You are welcome. This tent is a spare so is not so big as the others, but hopefully you will be comfortable," he said simply before leaving them alone in the darkened tent. It smelt strongly of leather and wood oils. In the dark, Regina seemed even paler than she had done in the weak sunlight. Emma gently helped her settle on the furs and brought her their bed things.  
"Regina, you're not okay. It's not just because the spell was tough, is it?" Emma asked quietly, watching her closely. Regina sighed and Emma's raised her brows in warning. "Don't lie to me. There's something wrong."  
"It's nothing... The night you wounded your hands when I went for a walk, I went out to kill the beast that had been following us. That's why I put out the fire, didn't want to draw any more of them to us. It stung me and I guess it was poisonous," Regina replied with a weak shrug.  
"It stung you?! Why didn't you tell me? What the Hell was it?" Emma yelled, eyes wide and frightened. Regina's eyes seemed full of dark smoke, her skin covered with a fine sheen of perspiration. She closed her eyes as though pained by the volume of Emma's voice.  
"It spat something out of its tail at me... I didn't want to worry you or slow us down, it didn't even hurt," Regina replied softly. "I figured I could deal with it."  
"Show me where it stung you," Emma demanded. Regina nodded and began to remove her clothing, Emma helping her as her movements were slow and stiff. Eventually, she removed her corset. Underneath, an enormous wound covered her left side from her ribs to her hips. The skin was black and purple, the wound itself covered in sticky black tar. Emma swallowed; she was not squeamish, but she could feel herself growing dizzy.  
"Okay... Okay," Emma said, taking a deep breath to steady herself. "I'm going to fetch some water and the guy who gave us our tent and try to sort this out. You'll be okay."  
Regina nodded and Emma disappeared out of the tent, running as fast as she could to find the man she assumed to be the leader. She returned with him, an old woman and a sponge, water and some gauze. The man lingered by the door whilst the old woman went immediately to Regina's side.  
"This is the work of a manticore," she said presently after examining the wound closely. "But this wound has been here for days, weeks even. Manticore stings usually kill on impact, or at least paralyze... Would I be right in saying she is deeply magical?"  
"Yes, she's a witch. But this all happened so quickly, she was fine yesterday..." Emma replied sheepishly. Regina seemed to have slipped into unconsciousness.  
"My guess is the magic is what kept her alive for so long. She was probably just numb, it's taken this long for the effects to wear down the protection her magic has afforded her, and now she's feeling the full effects," the woman said, checking Regina's pulse. "My name is Baba... I'm a healer, but I don't know how much I can do for her."  
"What are you saying?" Emma demanded, getting to her feet so abruptly the old woman drew her dagger in warning.  
"I'm saying, girl, that she's dying," Baba said impatiently. "In fact, I'd tell you to start building the pyre now."  
"She can't die," Emma snarled, advancing on the woman. "You need to do something!"  
"Listen, there is nothing I can do. This is beyond even my abilities. The only chance you have now is a miracle," Baba shrugged, hobbling out of the tent. The man inclined his head respectfully and followed her, leaving Emma alone with angry tears prickling her eyes.


	4. Chapter 4

The dark, stuffy interior of the tent did not do much to help Emma's light-headedness as she sponged Regina's wound, the thick, black substance clinging stubbornly to her flesh. It was sticky and resistant to Emma's efforts to remove it, but eventually, she'd cleaned it away to expose the wound itself. A gash the length of Emma's hand ran down Regina's left side, the flesh around it coloured shades of purple, black and green. The gash leaked the tarry liquid in a near constant stream no matter how hard Emma tried to get rid of it. Tears were streaming down her cheeks as she attempted vainly to do something, anything to help Regina. After some time, Baba entered the tent.  
"Well lass, I admire your stubbornness," she sighed, kneeling at Emma's side. "Let me take a look."  
Reluctantly, Emma allowed Baba to examine the wound once again.  
"Well?" Emma asked desperately, hoping somehow there was a way for Regina to be saved.  
"She's done for, girl. She'll be dead in the next few days, either the rot'll kill her or the poison will," Baba said matter-of-factly, getting to her feet. "The rot's the most painful way, so if you want her to die in peace, I'd advise you to dig the sting out of the wound. Be careful, if you prick yourself or it shatters, then you'll both die."  
Emma wanted to punch the old woman, to grab her and shake her by the shoulders, to demand she heal Regina. But she didn't. Instead, she slumped and murmured a goodbye as Baba left once again. After some time, gazing upon Regina's pale face, she decided to remove the sting. She glared at the wound, steeling herself before simply reaching forward into the gash, resisting the urge to vomit. Her fingertips found a hard lump within the wound and attempted to grab it, her grip slipping across the slimy surface. Eventually, she managed to get a secure hold on it and slowly wiggled it to loosen it before yanking it abruptly out of the wound. Regina suddenly awoke and screamed, a long, soul destroying note of pure agony, before dissolving into weak sobs. Emma had pulled so hard she'd tumbled backward, but at last the sting was out. It was enormous, the length of her forearm, and tapered wickedly, shining with black tar and blood. She set it aside and wrapped it in a blanket before crawling over to Regina who was trembling so violently Emma feared she might be having a fit. She was covered in blood; pulling the thorn out had opened the floodgates and sent a torrent of blood, vile black liquid and an eerie silver substance gushing from the wound all over both Emma and Regina.  
"Please no," she whispered at Emma's approach. "Please... Just let me die, please don't hurt me any more."  
Emma's heart broke for her in that moment, and a deep pain blossomed in her chest. She took Regina's hand, beyond caring that she was kneeling in a puddle of blood.  
"I'm not going to hurt you Regina," she murmured, brushing Regina's hair out of her face. "It's Emma. I'm going to save you, okay? You won't die. It'll be okay."  
"Emma..." Regina said, face full of pained confusion. She was delirious. "Find the White Hart... You need to... Find him."  
"Okay, I'll find him," Emma promised, although she had no idea what Regina meant by a white heart. "I'll find him for you."  
"Emma," Regina's words were thin and almost inaudible. "I love you."  
And with that, she fainted dead away.

Evening hung in a gray-blue swathe across the land, the distant mountains seeming to loom ever closer in the darkness. As Emma climbed out of the tent, she felt the eyes of the villagers upon her. Standing tall, covered in blood, tear tracks still shining on her cheeks, Emma was somehow the picture of despair, but also of strength. Regina's _I love you_ rung in her mind like a prayer, an insane litany of dying words and half-imagined sensation. She sought out Baba and found her milking the new goats. Emma felt a surge of anger that they would use Regina's gift whilst refusing to aid her, but she swallowed her rage. If they were cast out into the cold night, Regina would almost certainly die.  
"Baba," Emma said boldly, in no mood to waste time. "I need your help."  
"I told you there was nothing to be done," the old woman replied, frowning at her as she picked up her pail of milk and began to move away.  
"I don't mean like that. I need to you to look after her whilst I'm gone," Emma said, stepping in front of her. "She told me to go look for something. I'm going to go try and find it. Might be able to help her."  
"And what did she tell you to look for?" Baba asked suspiciously.  
"A white heart," Emma replied, slightly less brave now that she was realizing she didn't know what on Earth Regina meant or where to start.  
"Ah, the White Hart. The great white stag who grants wishes to those who catch him," Baba mused, handing her bucket of milk to a nearby child and following Emma to the tent. "Certainly, but you'll not have an easy time of it. That beast is quick and cunning. Nobody's managed to catch him for the past hundred or so years. But I suppose it's the only hope you have. You go take my horse, he's the fastest horse on these plains, and chase that stag down. I'll pray for you and keep your witch alive as long as I can."  
"Thank you," Emma breathed, realizing that Regina had not been talking about a white heart, but a hart; a deer, a stag. Of course. She wracked her brains; it seemed so familiar. There was a white stag who granted wishes in the Chronicles of Narnia, she read the books over summer break as a kid. Maybe this stag was the same sort of beast. She shook Baba's hand and bolted away toward the horse pen.  
"Watch for omens and beasts of death! Don't let them deter you!" Baba called after her. The ominous words slowed her slightly. Beasts of death? What did she mean?  
At the pen, she was directed to Baba's horse; a lean, delicately built stallion with a gleaming chstnut coat. His flaxen mane and tail were so long they'd been braided to keep them from trailing on the ground. Emma fidgeted whilst a man kindly helped her tack up the horse, and the moment he was ready to go, she swung into the saddle with a surprising grace. For a moment she smiled to herself over how proud Regina would be, before reality struck her a sharp blow and stiffened her resolve. She pressed the horse into a gallop immediately and rode from the village as hard as she could, out onto the plain. Her eyes scanned the horizon for any signs of deer.  
As the first stars began to emerge, Emma realized it was going to be a long night. Somewhere in the distance, an ear-splitting, horrifying shriek spurred her horse into a wild gallop. Emma supposed that was one of the "beasts of death" Baba mentioned. Fighting the urge to look in the direction of the sound, Emma pressed the horse steadfastly on toward the mountains.  
Regina had said the people of the mountains used deer. Perhaps she'd find The White Hart closer to the looming peaks. A second scream pierced the night air, an awful, tearing sound. Emma turned her head to look and instantly regretted it. Three ghostly figures were approaching the village, long fingers outstretched. Their pale hair floated around them, giving them the appearance of a distorted corpse underwater. As another shriek sounded, seeming to shiver across the land, Emma realized exactly what the horrible creatures were.  
Banshees. Banshees scream when somebody is about to die.  
She remained just long enough to watch the men of the village chase the beasts away with fire and arrows, whereupon the melted into mist, before wheeling round and galloping once again toward the distant mountain range.

The moon rode high, colouring the plains and mountainsides silver. The stream seemed full of some glowing molten ore, caught through with pale light. Baba's horse was indeed quick and clever, but he had been pressed hard and eventually, waded into the stream to drink and rest, his sides heaving with exertion. Emma resisted the temptation to jump into the water herself, and was considering filling her waterskin when an awful sound rose gooseflesh across her skin. Thinking it might be more banshees, she drew her dagger and looked around, almost toppling from the saddle when she saw the source of the sound. It was a horrible, wailing lament, almost like some sort of tortured singing. With a sort of disgusted curiosity, Emma peered at the creature, too frightened to speak. It was a woman, of sorts, an emaciated creature with papery grey-green skin hanging from its bones. It had long, thinning hair, rank with grease and blood that hung in ropey strands from a balding head. The creature's limbs were very long, and it seemed to have no eyes, just staring black holes. Emma pressed the horse closer, though his ears were flattened to his skull. As Emma drew nearer, she noticed it seemed to be washing blood stained clothes in the stream, its long breasts hanging in the water, its mouth dripping thick, yellow saliva. Emma knew the creature was aware of her, for she had seen it shift slightly at her approach though it did not cease singing or washing.  
"Excuse me," Emma said suddenly, unsure of why she decided to speak at all. The creature's head snapped round, and she noticed its mouth seemed to have too many teeth. "What are you washing?"  
"The witch's death shroud," the beast burbled in response, holding a sodden, blood-stained shroud up for Emma to see. "For she is soon to leave this world. Why do you trespass on my washing, child?"  
"I seek the White Hart," Emma replied, heart pounding frantically. She would've given anything to bolt, to draw her sword and hack off the creature's head, to give up and go home. The creature placed what Emma presumed was a searching gaze upon her.  
"You have a pure heart," the beast said, nodding. "You will find him if you stay true. But you must leave this place, for you only get one question. If you press me further, I would have to kill you."  
"Then I shall be on my way. Farewell," Emma said politely, bowing to the washerwoman and riding past, keeping her eyes ahead. When she was certain she was far enough away, she pressed the horse into a gallop once again. She wanted to vomit. She had never felt such fear she did tonight; Regina's passing seemed imminent, and still there was no stag to be seen.  
However, just as her heart was beginning to weaken and misery was setting in, a silvery apparition materialized at her side. She only had to glance at the beast to see the proud crown of horns and liquid black eyes to know it was the stag she sought. She reined in and halted. The stag also stopped, standing before her in all his pale glory like moonlight given flesh. For a moment they simply gazed at each other, lost in the other's eyes before Emma finally spoke.  
"I have been searching for you," she breathed.  
"And you have found me," the stag replied. His voice seemed almost like a hymn, as though many voices existed within his voice, singing his words. "You did not flee at the banshees, nor the bean nighe. Not once did you think about wishing for anything other than the health of your witch. You could have decided to wish instead for endless money, for your son to always be full of health, for whatever you wanted, but that did not occur to you because your heart and intentions were true. And thus I have come to grant your wish."  
"Thank you," Emma said boldly, pleased that her voice did not tremble. "I wish for you to heal Regina."  
The stag approached and kissed Emma upon her forehead with his strange pink nose.  
"It is done. She will need time to recover, but she is healed. She will bear the scars for the rest of her life," he said gravely. Emma noticed his eyes were not black, but viridian green. "You may have one question."  
"Would she have died without your intervention?" she asked in a small voice, feeling she had wasted her question, but shrugging it off.  
"Yes. The tip of the sting was pressing against her heart. Had she not had such a strong heart, so full of love and repentance, it would have pierced it and killed her long ago," the stag said. "Take care of her heart, for it is strong and true. She has turned her face back toward the sun and left evil behind. Do not mistreat her with suspicion or hatred for her past misdeeds, for they do not matter now."  
Emma nodded before bowing to the stag. He bowed in return and vanished into the night as quickly as he'd come. Emma turned the stallion so quickly he almost pirouetted and they galloped back to the village, Emma's heart full of some indescribable pressure.  
The moment they reached the village, Emma leaped from the horse with such enthusiasm that she skinned her knees and handed him to a random passer-by running to the tent and barrelling through the flap. She did not give Baba or Regina a chance to speak before throwing her arms around Regina and drawing her into an embrace.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N; Short bit of filler to move things on a little. This fic is intended to be rather long, so my apologies if chapters like these are boring! I think I went a little OOC in this chapter, but I was trying to lighten the mood after the events of the last few chapters. **

They stayed with the nomads for a few more days until Regina could walk again. She had an awful time detoxing the poison; Baba wouldn't let her eat anything but white fish, unleavened bread and goat's milk. By the time they were ready to leave, she was in better fettle. She had wasted away under the poison's rapid effects, but the colour had returned to her face and the tremors had stopped. She was still too weak to ride and had to sit in front of Emma in the saddle, which greatly wounded her pride, but Emma was firm in her insistence that she recover a little more before she started riding again. They rode off into the evening with bulging saddlebags and warm hearts, Emma's cob walking on the end of his rope once again.  
Regina had not ceased alternately complaining and looking at Emma with interest whenever she thought Emma wasn't looking. Though she had spent most of the time since they'd departed from the nomad camp squawking at Emma to sit up properly in the saddle because she looked like "a sack of potatoes", their ride had been pleasant. They were nearing the mountains rapidly and most of the monsters that wandered the plains kept back from them and watched with wary eyes, even the beasts that would've attacked them on sight before. Emma suspected the White Stag had something to do with this, but she couldn't be certain.

Eventually, the plains gave way to gently rolling hills with some woodland, and from there, they found themselves on some heathland carpeted thickly with an array of wild flowers, low shrubs and young trees. Both women were so taken with the scenery, they elected to erect their campsite early in the day and take a little time to rest and soak in the beautiful vista of blue sky, flowers and passing animals. On the heath, there were far fewer monsters and more wildlife, which meant they could light a fire without worry of attracting beastlings and cruel creatures.  
"God, it's gorgeous here," Emma murmured, flopping down to sit in the purple and yellow flowers, watching as Regina untacked the horses and let them wander. "Won't they run off?"  
"No; they won't leave us. They're cleverer than that," Regina answered simply, sitting down at Emma's side somewhat laboriously. "And it is certainly a stunning place. We'll be through this place by tomorrow if we move quickly, up onto the moors and foothills. There, we'll have to switch the horses out for deer and make our way through the forest and up the mountain. That's where things will get difficult."  
"And then we'll reach Cora," Emma said quietly. Regina nodded, whistling softly. Emma was about to ask why she was making such an odd sound when she noticed a golden plover hopping out of the bush and approaching Regina, cocking its head curiously. Emma held her breath, watching as though bewitched as Regina scooped the bird up into her arms. She could hardly move, her heart full of some indescribable love, a pure and perfect happiness, as though she'd do anything Regina asked... She saw Regina's lips move by the plover's head and desperately wished to hear her voice, her heart aching as though a piece of her was missing. As the plover fluttered off, Regina turned to Emma, startled to find her weeping quietly.  
"Sorry, I think I accidentally caught you in that enchantment," she murmured, taking Emma's hands and kissing her upon the forehead. "I unbind you."  
"Um... Regina," Emma murmured awkwardly, wondering why on Earth Regina was holding her hands. "What just happened?"  
Regina just laughed at her, falling backward to lie amongst the flowers and gaze at the sky. Emma was staring at her hands, still baffled, feeling as though her brain was full of cotton. She lay down beside Regina, looking up into the endless blue, feeling oddly emotional.  
"You'd think it was the middle of Summer," Emma mused softly. "But there's snow on the mountains."  
"There's always snow on the mountains," Regina laughed, rolling over and wincing a little, to rest upon her elbows. "But a few of the birds are in their Winter plumage. Once we move on, you'll start feeling the cold, so we'll buy some warm furs and things for you in whatever mountain village we stop by."  
"You feeling okay?" Emma asked, noting her facial expression. "Do you need me to do anything?"  
"I'm okay," Regina replied, gazing at Emma rather strangely. Emma found it rather difficult to breathe, entranced by the dark fire in Regina's eyes. She seemed so close, such an irresistible closeness, the space between them full of electricity, Emma's breath hitching in her chest. She closed her eyes, expecting to feel Regina's mouth on hers, expecting to feel Regina's hands pinning her wrists to the ground, expecting to feel fervent kisses against her neck. She gasped and her eyes fluttered open.  
Regina was gone. Emma sat up abruptly, unaware that half of the heathland had elected to begin a new life in her hair, scowling at Regina's retreating back. The dark haired woman looked over her shoulder, her scarlet lips curved in a wicked smile, before turning back to face the sun.  
Emma leaped to her feet to follow her, an odd combination of angry, disappointed and relieved, to ask her what she was playing. She was almost at Regina's side when she noticed something that almost made her topple over. _Regina's shadow was a stag. _Emma resisted the urge to cry out, instead bowing to the dark shape in the flowers. The shadow bowed back.  
"There's lovely freshwater spring around here. Very clear, very clean," Regina said, looking behind her, perplexed when she found nothing there. "You need to wash your hair, you've got about ninety-percent of the surrounding countryside tangled up in it."  
Emma huffed, but softened as Regina reached up to pluck a tangle of mossy twigs from her blonde curls, raising her brows at her smugly. Regina continued to talk about the landscape, walking backward. Emma nodded along, wondering if Regina was going to be this smug for the rest of the journey. As much as Emma had warmed to Regina, even though their friendship had grown strong, she couldn't help but nurse a twinging desire for revenge. Her thoughts were interrupted by the sight of the spring. It was beautiful, a nearly perfectly round pool of turquoise water amongst the flowers. Seeing her chance, Emma tackled Regina and threw her bodily into the water, laughing uproariously as Regina resurfaced, both laughing and cursing Emma as she tried without much success to scramble out onto dry land.  
"Oh my God, Emma Swan," Regina gasped as Emma helped her out of the water. "Are you angling to take over from me as resident Bitch Overlord? Throwing invalids into ponds! That's the kind of thing I did in my Evil Queen days..."  
"I promise I'm not trying to take your job," Emma grinned. "And you're not a bitch. Well. Any more."  
"I guess I'll take whatever compliments I can get," Regina replied, rolling her eyes and beginning to extricate herself from her wet clothes.  
"Look, I'm sorry for tossing you in, I was just messing around. I'll get you a blanket," Emma offered, suddenly feeling bad for tossing Regina into the water. She had only meant it as a joke, but she was worrying she might've hurt Regina, especially considering she was already fragile. When she returned with a blanket and a handful of wildflowers as an apology, she found Regina bathing in the spring. Her hair billowed around her in a dark cloud, making her look otherworldly and strange. For a moment, Emma was afraid.  
"Thank you," Regina said, as Emma placed the blanket by the stream, before grabbing Emma's leg and yanking her into the water.  
"Jesus Christ Regina, it's freezing," Emma yelped.  
"Revenge is a dish best served cold," Regina sneered with relish, adopting her best evil face.  
"Oh God, you've become something even worse than an Evil Queen; you've evolved into your final form. The Pantomime Villain," Emma whispered with mock horror, to which Regina splashed her generously. Emma swam to edge of the pool to climb out, her sodden clothes dragging her slightly. "Ugh Regina, why'd you have to pull me in, my clothes are all gross and wet now."  
"That was for tossing me in," Regina replied, swimming over and pressing Emma against the edge of the spring. Emma tried vainly not to notice Regina's breasts pressed against her chest.  
"Regina, you're sort of naked..." Emma breathed hoarsely, her protestations cut off as Regina suddenly kissed her, her breath catching. She wasn't sure how to respond at first, but the moment she was aware of Regina's lips on hers, she kissed her back, drawing her into an embrace. She was quite numb to the sharp rocks digging into her back and the fact they were slowly sinking. Regina suddenly pulled away, eyes strangely bright.  
"And that was for saving my life," Regina whispered, before breaking away and climbing out, leaving Emma treading water, more confused than she'd ever been in her life.


	6. Chapter 6

The night fell like a curtain of dark velvet over the land, turning the rich purples and golds of the heathland to a moonsilvered sea. The world seemed cast in platinum, the silence pressing oppressively upon Emma's chest as she waded noiselessly through the flowers. She kept her gaze fixed upon the great tors atop the moors directly North, moving onward ceaselessly. She hadn't bothered to look back, but she knew she had long since moved out of Regina's view.  
Something had compelled her to walk. She had not spoken to Regina since they had kissed, and was not overly keen to change that; she found her heart longing to leap into the sky and hide in the glimmer of some far off star, or envelop itself in a vein of bright cloud. Something had stirred a deep ache within her, and it pressed her onward and away from Regina into the hills. She had not wanted this, but that was problem. Part of her did want it. She did not intend to fall under whatever enchantment Regina wove simply by existing, but she had done, and now she felt stupid. Regina was Henry's Other Mom. She was an ex-Evil Queen. She was a witch.  
You don't fall in love with witches, queens, the adoptive parent of the kid you gave up. You just don't. Regina's kiss burned on her lips still, a joke, a token of thanks, nothing more.  
The only thing to do was to get as far away from her as possible.

And somewhere, beyond Emma's sight, down on a gentle slope carpeted with flowers, Regina breathed Emma's name with worry at every stirring of the evening, every passing bird. She had kissed Emma. She wasn't sure what she'd expected, but she hadn't expected Emma to run off into the night and leave her, heart aching in the black dark. And so she returned to her old friend; magic. The flames of the fire leapt emerald green, now electric pink, now hissing violet, now egg yolk yellow, blue, silver, red. A maelstrom of colour erupted from the kindling, painting the surrounding area with a rainbow of light. She was exhausted, but she had magic to work and potions to brew. A spell to take the pain away and let her sleep just for the night without worry and a potent dust designed to make Emma forget her kiss and her half-delirious proclamation of love. The wound in her side twinged angrily. This was a precise art; if the brew was not absolutely perfect, then it would either not work at all or wipe Emma's memory completely. As she watched the aquamarine potion simmer, its steam rising in lazy gold spirals, she mused. She could easily take some herself. Forget about all this. These feelings, the weight in her chest, the loneliness that seemed almost to crush her.  
She felt pathetic. She was clinging with delusions of love to the first person to offer her simple kindness, falling for the lure of affection so hard because she'd been deprived of it for so long. And it was wrong to fall in love again, even an odd, twisted love borne out of misunderstanding, because she had not finished mourning Daniel. It was not right to move on, to give her heart so readily to another, to fall into the arms of a knight like some princess plucked from a tower.  
Sitting in a cloud of black velvet, face changing colour by the light of the fire, she felt so wicked she wanted to weep.  
Steeling herself, she let the fire die back to common flame and the potion simmer. By morning, it would've evaporated off into the powder she needed. She got to her feet, murmured an incantation and found herself growing heavy, heading into the tent and preparing to sleep.  
Regina wept bitterly until the sleeping spell stole her voice and laid her to rest, though the tears continued to slip from between her closed lids, gathering on her lashes like morning dew.

The granite tors stood like sentries over the land, casting long shadows and seeming almost to peer at Emma as she approached, frowning. Her anger and sadness had given way to a generally damp, thick feeling in her chest and a heaviness in her step.  
"You are troubled," a low voice said. Emma looked up and noted the White Stag standing on a small hill a few feet away.  
"Yes," Emma replied, uneasy. Had he come to take payment for her wish?  
"You have left the witch," the stag said directly, fixing her with a level gaze. Emma shifted uncomfortably, realizing that she had abandoned the woman she had sworn to protect.  
"...I didn't mean to, I just uh... needed to think. Some stuff happened and-" Emma faltered. She had fled because she was frightened. Frightened that she had welcomed Regina's kiss. Frightened by the realization that she had only grown so bitter because she had feared Regina's flirtations were a game.  
"You are afraid she will hurt your heart," the beast said, moving over to her, green eyes flashing. "I can see in your eyes that you are walking lost amongst your own thoughts. Get on my back, I wish to show you something."  
Emma obeyed wordlessly, scrambling onto the stag's back. He was narrow and bony and nothing like a horse, but she was thankful when he told her she may grip his enormous antlers to help her remain seated. His white coat was beautifully soft and the thick ruff around his neck was so luxurious and warm that Emma wanted to sink her hands into it. Instead, she gripped his antlers, surprised to find them velveted. Before she had time to think, he was bounding in a series of smooth leaps up the hills, moving far faster than Emma believed any animal was capable of. For a moment, a romantic image entered her mind. A knight riding into battle on a pure white stag, sword drawn...  
There was a beautiful, rushing sensation with the speed of motion, the wind whistling in her ears, the flowers melting into an indiscernible mess of colour. Even the stars seemed to distort into silver blossoms in the lapis lazuli velvet of the sky, the world a dizzying, intoxication blur. Her knuckles whitened as she gripped his antlers harder; he had reached one of the enormous, highly stacked tors that stood like a great silver needle at the crest of the moorland and was leaping jerkily from ledge to ledge. Eventually, they reached the top and Emma slid from his back, crumpling. They were incredibly high up, far higher than Emma had imagined. She thought perhaps on a rainy day when the clouds were full and heavy, one would be able to grab a handful of thunderstorm from the sky from such a vantage point. Her thoughts were interrupted b the stag moving over to the edge of the stack. Emma followed him and sat down, dangling her legs over the edge. The world below seemed almost Lilliputian from such a height and she was powerfully reminded of her adventures up the beanstalk. She cast her gaze across the gentle rolling expanse of heath and distant plains, quickly finding their small tent far off in the distance. She would not have noticed it were it not for the cigarette-tip glow of the fire which appeared to be emitting a cloud of golden steam.  
"I wanted to show you what lies behind you," the stag said softly. "And what lies ahead."  
"Why?"  
"That will become clear," he said sharply, though his expression was soft. "Direct your gaze to heath you have just journeyed through. Find your encampment, and then find for me the constantly moving shadow that passes across the land."  
Emma nodded and began searching for the shadow. Eventually, she located it, a long black shape that seemed constantly to twist and dance darkly amongst the flowers. It was enormous; Emma estimated it had to be thirty feet or more.  
"What the hell is that?" she gasped, leaning so far forward that she almost fell from the tor. Fortunately, the stag pushed her back into place with his antlers before she could do any damage.  
"That is a basilisk, my child," the stag said quietly. "He is very old and his gaze can no longer slay as he is blind, but his fangs are still rich with poison and he is hungry. He can smell your horses."  
Emma wondered why the stag was telling her this, before it struck her like a slap across the face. Regina was out there alone with the basilisk.  
"I need to go back to her," Emma said, scrambling to her feet and moving to try and climb down. The stag halted her once again.  
"He will not harm her; when you saw me lurking in her shadow, I was casting a few protective spells. It is not in the cards for you two to die just yet," the stag said calmly. Emma's brows shot up at the "yet", but she said nothing. She gazed back over the interminable expanse of flowers. The snake seemed relatively disinterested in the encampment. The stag jerked his head to signal for her to turn around and she did so, shivering slightly at she was confronted by the vast, towering mountains.  
"And this is what lies ahead. There are dragons in those mountains, child, and a number of beasts far worse besides. You must keep your wits about you," the stag said. "And this cannot be done alone. Do you know why I brought you here?"  
"No," Emma admitted, nonplussed.  
"To remind you of what lies ahead and who you're leaving behind. You cannot do this alone, nor can you violate your sworn duty to protect the witch," he told her, lowering his great white head to look into her eyes. "You pledged allegiance to her and her cause. You must not abandon her now."  
"You don't understand, I don't want to aba-" Emma began angrily when the deer fixed her with such a gaze that she fell silent.  
"The thought of her love frightens you," he acknowledged. Emma nodded. "It frightens her too. It would be cruel of you if you had fled because you did not feel the same, but it is crueller still that you know in your heart you feel something for her that you are trying to ignore."  
"I didn't want this to happen," Emma whispered, white faced. "This isn't how it was supposed to work out. I thought she was fooling around..."  
"You saved her life. You are the mother of her child. You are one of the only people who has ever truly believed in her, who has considered that she might not be evil to the core, who tried to reach out to her," the stag reasoned. "And now she has fallen in love with you. What reason would she have not to be genuine? You know her better than that. I read her heart the night I took the poison from her, but I do not need that insight to know she is true."  
Emma did not reply, silenced by shame. After a time, she spoke.  
"Why do you care about this mess in the first place?" she asked cautiously. The stag made an odd braying sort of sound that she eventually identified as laughter.  
"Because love is the greatest strength there is, and you will need it to defeat the Queen of Hearts," the stag told her, suddenly serious. "You have a greater strength together than you do apart. You have seen first hand what True Love can do."  
"Wait... Are you saying she's my true love?" Emma asked, aghast.  
"Perhaps. This love is new and tender for both of you. It is but a young sapling yet. You can choose to embrace it or turn it away, but that is not a choice I can sway your decision in," the stag said blandly, though his eyes sparkled.  
"Take me back to her," Emma demanded suddenly, before remembering herself. "Please."  
"As you wish," he said, catching her with his great crown of antlers and tossing her onto his back once again. She clung on as he began to leap, blindingly fast, from the tor. He smelled powerfully of trees and woodland and fruit. She found herself growing tired, so she sunk down to rest her head upon his thickly furred neck.  
"Stag," she asked sleepily. "Why do you care so much about us fighting Cora?"  
He turned his head slightly, hair standing on end.  
"...She has something of mine I would very much like to get back," he said eventually. Emma accepted that as a suitable answer and began to doze as he slowed his lunges to a walk and carried her sleeping form through the flowers and back to the weeping witch.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N; I'm super sorry for taking so long to update! It's been a very busy few weeks with regard to work and assessments and things at college so I had to put this fic on hold. Hopefully this chapter might make up for that. **

Dewy flowers and the hot, grassy aroma of deer's breath was what finally roused Emma from her sleep, to the great amusement of the White Stag who had dumped her from his back after she showed no signs of rising in spite of his efforts to reawaken her. As her eyes flickered open and the colour returned to the world, Emma sat up so abruptly that she headbutted the poor stag square in his pink nose. He had been peering into her face and snuffing at her hair in the way that some animals are wont to do, and had taken her rather by surprise. For a few moments, they merely blinked at each other before Emma remembered herself and clambered to her feet. The stag stood neatly, watching her carefully with his green eyes.  
"There are trials ahead. Be wise," the beast said by way of farewell, before leaping away across the heath like a great pale ghost. Emma stared at his retreating form for a few moments before climbing into the tent and settling herself as carefully as possible so as not to disturb Regina. Emma noticed the tear tracks silvering Regina's cheeks, the flush that comes with sadness still lingering on her skin and felt guilt twist brutally in her stomach.  
"I love you too," she whispered into the darkness, taking Regina's hand and squeezing gently, wishing she could be brave enough to brush away her tears.  
And somewhere deep in her enchanted sleep, Regina wept for the love she believed to be unrequited, deaf to Emma's words and dead to the world.

Morning dawned in dusky shades of grey, the sun hissing hidden behind a thicket of cloud. Regina stood in the mist, leaning heavily on her uninjured side and siphoning a fine turquoise powder from the brew of the previous evening. She pocketed the bottle of the dust and clapped her hands, her equipment vanishing in a puff of greenish smoke. Fortunately, it appeared Emma hadn't noticed any of it the night before and had left it undisturbed. Regina had awoken precisely at the moment she'd planned to, with Emma's fingers interlacing hers. The memory caused a painful twinge in her side and she set her jaw, steeling herself. This wasn't betrayal, it was for the best. Stealing somebody's memories was not what she would have preferred, but it was the only way.  
She hobbled back to the tent and slipped inside, gasping as Emma rolled over. She held her breath, preparing to administer the potion that would wipe the events of the last few days from Emma's memory forever.  
And somehow, she couldn't do it. Regina put the bottle back in her pocket and sighed heavily, lying down on the furs that made their bed. She had killed countless innocents, destroyed towns and villages, raped, pillaged, tortured, everything awful one could think of, Regina had done it. She was unsure if it was a mark of how much she'd changed that she could no longer casually weave spells and bewitch people, that she could not bring herself to steal Emma's memories, or if it was simply her own foolish heart having fallen too hard for somebody out of reach. She closed her eyes and pulled the furs about herself, praying that sleep might grant her reprieve from her own thoughts, and that perhaps she might avoid talking to Emma directly about their kiss.

When Regina rose once again, it was late in the afternoon and the sun was bright and warm, beating back the biting wind blowing down from the hills. Emma was cooking, dressed handsomely in forest greens and rich browns, her riding boots shining in the sun. It appeared she had taken leave of her thick furs, tunics, woolens and skins in a fit of delight at the warmth and wore only a thin white shirt and brown jodpurs, though a fur tippet warmed her neck. Regina greeted her with an anxious smile and Emma beamed back, leaping to her feet and leading Regina to the fire.  
"I noticed you stirring in your sleep and figured you might be waking up, so I started cooking a late lunch. I went hunting and caught a rabbit," Emma said brightly, seeming rather proud of her achievement. Regina's smile grew less taut and she relaxed; it appeared Emma was in no rush to speak of the events of the past evening. She did, however, seem awful keen to curry favour and Regina wondered what had prompted such behaviour but did not brooch the subject for fear of offending the woman in charge of dinner. She was absolutely starving. She peered into the pot and was struck by a delicious array of aromas; the rich cooking smells of the rabbit, bacon, onion, wild garlic, a buttery sort of warmth... Her stomach rumbled and she moved away, flushing slightly with embarrassment. Emma looked at her, baffled for a moment, before laughing.  
"Don't be shy, it's your way of telling me you're really looking forward to this," Emma grinned, prodding the contents of the pot with her stirring stick. "It's got a bit of everything in. Onions, potatoes, carrots, turnip, all the usual stuff. I found some wild garlic and threw that in too."  
"I didn't take you for a cook," Regina remarked with a smile.  
"Not many people do," Emma said brightly. "I'm more of a hunter-gatherer type. But I can throw something together if the need arises."  
They talked quietly for a time whilst the food bubbled on, until Emma judged it ready and began to ladle out two great bowlfuls. She handed Regina an enormous portion, with a great chunk of bread slathered with good butter on the side.  
"Emma, I appreciate the thought, but I think you're overestimating the capacity of my stomach," Regina joked, quite unsure of how to approach so much food. Emma laughed at her.  
"You need to eat up, I'd like to beat the storm coming up at our back and get over the moors by nightfall tomorrow, so we'll be riding all day. Besides, you've got really thin since you were poisoned. As strange as it is, I worry about you," Emma replied, breaking her bread and dipping it into the stew. Regina shrugged and obeyed, the pair of them hungrily devouring their feast. It was delicious, perhaps because it had been borne out of hard work. Emma did not care to tell Regina that she'd been preparing the meal for hours to have it just so, nor that Regina's praise made her glow.

As evening rode over the sky, chasing the day away in shades of orange and red, Regina rose and moved away from the camp to the small pool she had bathed in and emptied the bottle of powder into the water. The water seemed to pulsate greenly for a few moments before dying back to grey. Regina paused, gazing at nothing in particular for a while before returning to camp and aiding Emma with preparations for moving onward.  
The laboured for a long while, cleaning their tack and enriching the leather with saddlesoap so it shone in the twilight, washing their saddlepads and blankets and drying them on some nearby rocks, emptying crumbs and stale things from their saddlebags. To pause and refresh themselves so fully was invigorating and filled them with a great hope and desire for adventure, which made the promised exertion of the morrow's ride seem less drear. Regina was rather put out about having to sacrifice her gowns and ornate riding jackets in favour of more practical clothing, but Emma comforted her with the promise that she still looked lovely even without her great swathes of velvet and silk. Of course, her riding clothes were just as grand, but somehow Regina seemed oddly small without her usual attire of an enormous gown.  
As the cold breath of night swept over them and the warmth began to flee the ground, they finished their efforts and settled around the fire for supper before bed. Emma cooked once again, boiling the last of the eggs. She removed some from the water whilst the yolk was still good and runny and mashed them onto some buttered toast. She left the others until they were hard boiled and packed them in the saddlebags as a snack for the next day's riding. The supper was good and filling, and with their hunger sated and a wine skin to share between them, they retired to the tent in high spirits. For a long while, they lay merry with wine and good conversation, settling beneath their furs and finding their bed more comfortable than it had been in many weeks. Inns had been scarce, and both women had grown over familiar with the feeling of stone at their backs as they slept.  
Perhaps it was the wine or the scent of the flowers, but not long before the midnight hour found them, Emma took Regina into her arms wordlessly and found the queen to be quite willing to fall into her embrace. Soft kisses led them into a warm tangle of each other, hands finding their way beneath clothing, half-formed words and gasps finding their way through the kisses. Neither questioned it, it just occurred; they rolled into one another's arms as though they had always been lovers. Emboldened or struck stupid with wine, one could not tell, Emma took Regina that night with a sleepy gentleness and feverish warmth. Emma found her lover wanting and slick with lust, unable to keep a flourish of vain pride from pinking her cheeks as Regina's breath hitched at her touch. Her fingertips played in the wetness, taken aback, unsure of how to proceed, but the way Regina's thighs clenched as she brushed her sweet spot experimentally spurred her on and she garnered a certain braveness from the way Regina's nails dug into her back. The lovemaking was clumsy and inept, skill dulled by either drunkenness or inexperience, but Regina still found herself falling into Emma's arms as the product of Emma's ardent efforts raised her to her peak. She had never been a woman to call her lover's name, but she cried Emma's in a high, keening sort of voice Emma had never heard before. Her hands balled into fists in Emma's hair and she seemed to shiver, flushing in a way that Emma had never imagined such a woman could flush. When she settled, still trembling slightly, Emma held her close and let her weep upon her chest. It had been awkward and new and clumsy, but it had felt true and right and Emma was contented, though worried for Regina's tears. She had been gentle and slow, but she still wondered if she had hurt her. Regina told her no, she had not wounded her, and kissed her sweetly. Anxiety sated, they lay together in a tremulous embrace, too drunk on love and contentment and good wine to think of what would come with the sunrise before falling asleep in each other's arms.


End file.
